Pulp Faith
by KColl2003
Summary: An overly-ambitious encounter with a god ends up sending Xander and Faith through time.
1. Chapter 1

**FIC: Pulp Faith (1/?)**

Title: Pulp Faith

Rating: R

Story: Action\Adventure

Feedback: In lieu of a Faithbot yeah.

E-Mail: KeithColl

Disclaimer: Whedonverse characters owned by Mutant Enemy. Further xovers to come later.

New York 2010

Xander dipped under the yellow police evidence tape and crouched by the door, using his pick to ease the door unlocked. "I could just kick the door in."

Xander bit back a sigh as he glanced up at his beautiful companion. "And then the police would know we'd been here. Have a little patience, okay?"

Faith pouted. "I don't know why you ain't usin' the Council contacts to get us involved officially."

"Paperwork," Xander grunted; his solitary eye narrowing as he concentrated on the lock before him. "You know how I hate paperwork."

"'Kay, but if we get arrested, you're explainin' it to Giles, deal?" Faith crouched down beside him.

Xander forced himself to concentrate despite the Slayer's hot breath on his face. "Deal."

"But he knows we're investigating this demon?" Faith groaned when Xander shrugged. "Harris?"

"He sent me the case reports together with a bunch of other stuff, he probably didn't know I took a specific interest in this one," Xander finally admitted.

"Jesus," Faith shook her head as she stepped back and glanced left and right, checking the empty corridor. "But why this one?"

Xander finally looked up. "Five men and women all in their late teens, all from broken families, trying to make it on their own, their unlived decades taken from them in seconds. Your question should be why not this one?"

Faith rolled her eyes. "Time it's takin' you to open this damn door, I definitely know how they felt."

Xander grunted as the door clicked and swung open. "Done it."

"'Bout time," Faith grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back as he started forward. "Uh, uh," the curvy Bostonian shook her head, a faintly mocking expression on her face, "Slayer first." The Slayer was past him before he had chance to either protest or agree, stalking into the darkened apartment with a sinuous grace that only another Slayer or ironically a vampire could match. "You can come in."

"Thanks," Xander muttered sarcastically. His heart fell at the sparsely-furnished single-room apartment, to struggle so hard to have so little, and then have even that taken away from them. It wasn't right, and maybe the police didn't have a chance of catching the killer, but these victims would have justice, he'd make sure of it.

Well, Xander's lips twisted in a wry smile, his Slayers would, he'd just hide behind the nearest furniture and watch hot babes kick ass.

God, he loved his job some times.

"Huh," Faith glanced around the dark, dusty apartment, "I'm not seein' any blood splatter or even signs of a struggle. How did the victim die?"

"Like I said," Xander reached into his khaki jacket and pulled out a brown envelope that he passed to his companion, "it wasn't pretty or normal."

"Shit." Faith's nose wrinkled as she glanced at the crime scene photo before looking towards him. "I don't get it. Someone kidnapped the apartment's owner and replaced them with a skeleton?"

"No," Xander shook his head. "DNA confirms that the skeleton belongs to Lisa Fox, the room's nineteen year old tenant who had been seen at work two days' earlier. And yet her corpse is that of a ninety year old woman whose corpse had been left unburied for somewhere in the region of several decades."

"Shit," Faith grimaced. "And the other victims are the same?" Xander nodded. "What sort of demon can do this and why? For kicks, for power?"

Xander shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "I've got Harri researching, I just thought I'd look around the latest crime scene and see if there was anything that the police didn't notice, but might stand out to a demon hunter."

"Like gnats snapping at the feet of gods."

Xander joined Faith in spinning around in time to see a tall, thin man with immaculately parted grey hair and cold dark eyes set deep in his lined features step out of a shimmering portal in the wall by the apartment door, a smirk playing on his thin lips. For all his simple yet well-cut black suit made him look like a prosperous undertaker, Xander didn't need the portal to tell him the man was much, much more.

An assumption that was confirmed when Xander tried and failed to move, out of the corner of the eye he noted Faith likewise frozen besides him. "Huh," Xander strained, his muscles aching as he vainly struggled to move, the stranger stepped up to Faith and smirked, "such a tasty looking morsel. It's a shame I didn't get a hold of her when she was younger. She'd have been quite the meal."

"Don't." Sweat beaded down Xander's face, his jaw feeling like he chewing glass as he struggled to form words. "Touch. Her."

"Huh," the being peered at him, ageless eyes considering him, amusement glinting in his dark pools, "that must hurt, pushing against my magic. You have quite the will young man. Not one person in ten thousand could manage to even speak with my magics on them. Not one in a billion would have the will to move." The interloper nodded smugly when Xander tried and failed to utter a smart-ass reply. "Better."

The interloper stepped back and laughed. "You thought you hunted a mere black arts mage or minor demon. I am Chronus, god of time. I kill a mere dozen teens a year, their life force fuelling mine. In millennia past, thousands would be gladly sacrificed to me, and yet you seek to begrudge me a few paltry deaths?"

Out of the corner of his eye Xander saw the sweat beading down his wide-eyed companion's face as she strained against the enchantment. "Go." Every muscle ached as he fought and failed to move, like he was a wakening coma patient fighting to raise from his bed. "To." His lungs burnt like a marathon runner's as they raced for the finishing line.

"Hell?" Chronus chuckled. "I've ruled in hells. And I could send you to any hell of my choosing with," Chronus lifted his hand, "a click of my fingers." Chronus chuckled. "But I have a more entertaining fate in mind for you."

Xander would have wailed in protest if he had the energy when a portal appeared behind him and Faith, dragging the pair of them inexorably towards it, their passing accompanied by the Titan's mocking laughter.

* * *

The spell holding her suddenly gone, Faith pitched forward, and would have fallen flat on her face but for Slayer balance, her hand shooting out to grab a hold of Xander's shoulders and stop him from crashing to the ground. "You okay, hon?"

"Oh boy." Instead of answering her directly, Xander looked around them, the colour rapidly draining from his face. "We're in big trouble."

"Wha-." The question died on her lips as Faith suddenly registered that they weren't in the apartment any more. Instead they were in the mouth of a paper-strewn alley with people rushing past them. The breath gusted from Faith as she realised the landscape was New York, but a landscape lacking many of its familiar landmarks, the air was cleaner than she remembered, and what cars that did drive past looked like something out of a Cagney gangster movie.

"Faith." Faith tore her eyes away from the impossible landscape surrounding them to glance down at Xander knelt on one knee, holding a paper up to her. "Look at this."

"Oh crap," Faith's legs felt suddenly unsteady as she took the paper and read its headline 'Spider smashes black marketing ring', then her eyes were drawn to the paper's date 'May 12th 1937'. "Not good."


	2. Chapter 2

**FIC: Pulp Faith (2/?)**

"'Kay." Forcing back her growing panic, Faith grabbed a hold of Xander's shoulder, pulled him up then dragged him deeper into the alley's shadows before spinning him around to face her. "This can't be right, right?" Faith choked down a near-hysterical laugh. "1937?"

Xander's face tightened. "Look around Faith, it's not our New York anymore."

"But that's impossible!"

"And so are vampires, werewolves, and witches," Xander rejoined. "That asshole claimed to be the god of time, and based on the evidence I believe him. Someone with more than enough juice to send us over seventy years in the past."

"Shit, how do we get back?" Faith slumped against the wall, her hands stuffed into her pockets as she struggled to comprehend just what had happened.

"Time travel isn't my area of expertise." Xander grimaced. "I don't know if we can get back."

That hit home like a body blow, driving the air from her. Life in the future wasn't all flying cars and Jetsons, but she had her buds, her life, and her purpose. To just disappear, to never return, scared her more than she'd willingly admit. "'Kay, then how are we gonna play this?" Faith's eyes narrowed when Xander smiled as he reached into his jacket and pulled a gold chain over his head. "You figurin' on pawnin' that?"

"No," Xander passed her the chain, "see that ring?"

Faith peered at the gold signet ring dangling from the chain, a 'W' sitting inside a 'C' adorning the ring's surface. "What is that?"

"Ever since the first banks and money-houses, the Watchers' Council has developed a global network of accounts and deposit boxes containing funds for their Watchers to use if they are cut off from the Council and need funds."

Faith's forehead furrowed. "I've never heard that before."

Xander flushed and rubbed self-consciously at his eye-patch "Only Watchers and senior Watchers at that know about it." Xander raised a hand when Faith's eyes darkened. "Don't shoot the messenger, I told Giles that every senior Slayer should know too, but he complained about re-designing the system, increased possibility of leaks, and etc."

"And etc?"

Xander grinned. "I stopped listening at that point."

"So what happens, you go into a bank, show them that ring and they give you money?" Faith's nose wrinkled as a worrying thought occurred. "Jesus, Xan. What happens if they contact the Council? They were real pricks in the nineties, I doubt they were much better a few decades earlier."

"Probably worse," Xander conceded. "But you're forgetting this isn't the 1990s. Even if they do contact the Council, it will take them days to get here. We'll have plenty of time to clear them out and get outta town."

"Cool," Faith nodded. Her eyes narrowed. "Wait, how much money does the Council have in its New York accounts?"

"There's three banks in New York, each with a safety deposit box with ten thousand bucks in it, set up at the turn of the century," Xander replied. "There's also two banks in California, one in Chicago, and one in Dallas."

"Thirty k?" Faith's nose wrinkled. That didn't sound like much. "How long will that last us?"

"It should last a few years," Xander soothed.

Faith shook her head as she looked out into the alley, revulsion filling her at the fashions she saw hurrying past the alley entrance. "Dude, no way in hell we're stayin' here for a few years. We have gotta find a way home, stat!"

* * *

"Hey, are you the Long-Terms Deposit officer?"

"Why yes I-." Barry Bockwinkel's practiced smile faltered as he looked up from his desk at the New York National Bank to find a quite extraordinary couple stood before him. The man was tall and well-built, with wavy black hair and an easy smile that was belied by the air of menace added via his eye-patch, his tan was that of a traveller to exotic climes. However, it was his companion that really caught the eye, a mind-bogglingly beautiful brunette whose curves were gripped in a pair of scandalously tight black leather pants and a matching waistcoat over a silken white blouse with the top two buttons undone.

Barry forced his amazement under control and returned to the job in hand. "Why yes I am." He forced his attention to the one-eyed man. "How may I help you sir?"

His amazement grew when the dangerous-looking stranger dropped a ring on a chain onto his desk. "I need the contents of the box that ring opens."

Barry looked at the ring, then the stranger, then his beautiful and daringly-attired companion. "Yes sir, if you'll come this way sir." He scooped up the chain, rose and led the couple into the bank's rear. Passing the two security guards at the rear, Barry quickly unlocked the deposit room's door and led the pair into a room lined with shelves upon shelves of shining deposit boxes. His skin prickling from the pair of oddballs behind him, he hurriedly unlocked the relevant deposit box and pulled it out. "Huh," he turned back to the waiting pair, his eyes resolutely ignoring the dark-eyed beauty, "I forgot to ask, I need your name for paperwork."

"Oh yeah," the young man's replying smirk could only be described as 'evil', "put the name of 'Quentin Travers' on any paperwork."

"Yes sir." Bockwinkel nodded. As far as he was concerned he wanted this meeting to be over as soon as possible.

Faith elbowed Xander in his side as the bank clerk bent over his desk and filled out some paperwork. "Whose this Travers dude?"

Her companion shot her a confused look then nodded. "Oh yeah, you probably wasn't around then, Travers was the head of the Council in the nineties, a real bastard. Some old Council family will probably end up scratching their head wondering how in the hell their little angel managed to empty a bank account thousands of miles away."

Faith laughed throatily. "Tweaking those old fossils' noses. I like it, Harris."

"Glad ma'am approves." Xander looked towards the strangely twitchy clerk. "Thanks for your assistance, sir."

"A…a pleasure sir," the man's eyes fair bulged when Xander casually passed him a crisp twenty dollar bill before slipping the rest of bill bundles into the rucksack he always carried around with him for his Slaying equipment.

Faith dropped in beside Xander, sauntering out of the bank's rear and past the windowed teller stations, into its marble-floored reception area., palm trees lining either wall.

"Oh you have go to be kiddin' me!" Faith groaned as a quartet of Tommy-gun wielding thugs wearing suits crashed through the bank's entrance.

"Everyone hit the floor!" the group's leader, a swarthy fireplug with tree trunks for limbs and piggy eyes fired up into the bank's ceiling as he climbed up on the desk stood central to the reception area. "We're here for money and we intend to take it!"

Faith glanced to Xander only to see her Watcher getting on his knees, a forced smile written across his face. "One thing I learnt in Africa is always obey the nice men with guns. Wait until there's an opportunity."

"Five by five," Faith grimaced as she joined Xander on the floor, eyes burning through the nearest of men.

Who unfortunately noticed her and started towards her, thick lips parted in a cruel smirk. "So the dame thinks dressing like a man makes her a man does she?"

* * *

Xander groaned as the man started towards them. He shot Faith an accusing look even as he readied himself to explode into action.

"The Shadow knows the evil that lurks in men's hearts!"

Xander gasped as a tall, lean man wearing a wide-brimmed black fedora, matching trenchcoat, and a crimson silken scarf covering his face from his nose down, materialised brandishing a pair of .45 automatics. "Unbelievable," he muttered. Shaking off his shock, he noted that all four of the gunmen had been distracted by the newcomer's sudden appearance, turned and nodded at Faith. "Now."

"Don't need to tell me twice," Faith snarled, a cold smile tugging on her curved lips as she leapt up behind the nearest gunman, reached around, grabbed his tommy-gun by its barrel, and tore his sub-machine gun out of his hands while simultaneously driving her knee into the man's lower back, and finishing him off with the machine gun's butt to his forehead.

For his part Xander didn't bother rising, simply lunging forward on the polished floor, sliding on his belly to the table with hands outstretched. The moment his fingers reached the table legs he grabbed a hold and pulled, sending the gunman stood on the table crashing to the ground, then flipping the table on top of him.

"Come on," Xander pulled himself up on the downed table then grabbed Faith by the elbow and started guiding her to the bank's entrance, the interloper having already dealt with the other pair of thugs, "let's get here before the police turn up."

"I hear that," Faith muttered, her distaste and distrust for the police dating back long before she'd ever been in prison.

The moment they were out on the busy sidewalk, Xander hailed a cab. "We best collect the rest of our money." Xander shook his head. "I can't believe we saw him, one of the first."

"One of the first what?" Faith shot Xander a puzzled look as he climbed into the car beside her.

Xander made sure the taxi's partition was closed before turning to her. "Don't you remember from your American History? That guy had to be the Shadow, one of the first super-heroes-."

"Dude," Faith shook her head and snorted, "I got my G.E.D. in prison, for some reason they're none too hot on teaching super-heroes to inmates."

"Oh right," Xander flushed. "Of course. Well in the early 1930s, perhaps in a reaction to the Great Depression and a general lack of hope in the country, there came the first generation of superheroes – guys like the Phantom, the Green Hornet, the Spirit, Doc Savage, and of course the Shadow. Then of course there came the war generation – the Human Torch, Citizen V, the Sub-Mariner, Bucky Barnes, and of course Captain America."

"Rrrright." Faith pursed her lips. She'd grown up on stories on what was probably considered the fourth generation of super-heroes – dudes like the Fantastic Four, Spiderman, and Daredevil, but she'd never been overly impressed with them. After all they'd never helped her or a thousand abused kids like her.

Shaking her head, she returned to concentrating on the matter in hand. "So what's the plan for the rest of the day?"

"First we clean out the other two banks and then we find ourselves a hotel to stay in."

* * *

"What's the plan for getting us back to our time?" Faith looked around their elaborately furnished hotel room. "I mean this place is choice, but I don't intend to spend the next fifty years waiting to catch up on myself."

"You remember being told about Darth Willow?"

"Sure," Faith shrugged. The idea of an 'evil' Willow was frankly weird to her, about the worst thing she could ever imagine the witch doing was keeping her library books overdue, but the fact was something had changed the witch during the time Faith had been imprisoned.

"Afterwards I asked Giles if I was his only plan. That there had to be another way of dealing with Willow, somebody more powerful in magics than she was."

"And?"

"He just smiled and said there's always the Sorcerer Supreme."

Someone more powerful than Willow, that sort of power might have the juice to pull off a time travelling spell. There was just one problem. "Anyone Giles was talkin' 'bout then will only be a kid now."

"No," Xander shook his head. "The way Giles said it, it sounded like 'Sorcerer Supreme' was a title passed from person to person."

Faith pouted thoughtfully. "And how do we find who or where he is?"

Xander winced. "No idea."

"Well how in the he-." Faith was interrupted by a knock at the door. Shaking her head, Faith strode over to the door and opened it to find the black bell-hop stood by the door, wide eyes stuck on his shoes. "Can I help you?"

"Invitation for you ma'am." The black passed them a white card with embossed, golden writing on it.

"Yeah, thanks." Faith passed the bell-hop a buck before closing the door behind him and turning to Xander. "You figure the Council knows we're here already?"

"They can't." Xander shook his head as he took the invitation from her. "Lamont Cranston requests our presence at a party he's throwing tomorrow night."

"Who the hell is he?"

"No idea," Xander shook his head. "And the only way we find out how he knows us is by accepting the invitation."


	3. Chapter 3

**FIC: Pulp Faith (3/?)**

"How do I look?"

Xander gulped at the most terrifying question a woman could ask a man. Forcing his gaze to his companion stood in the doorway of the bathroom of their shared hotel room, he allowed his jaw to drop to the thick carpet.

Faith looked discomforted, but she really shouldn't. She looked for all the world like a screen siren from Hollywood's glory years. The Slayer had a full-length silvery evening gown that sparkled thanks to the hundred of sequins embroidered on it, the front cut into a 'v' that disappointedly ended at mid-cleavage while the back was cut in an 'u' that ended at the small of the Slayer's muscled back. The outfit was completed by a mink fur shawl over her shoulders and white, forearm-length silk gloves.

Xander finally found his tongue. "You look great. Huh," Xander winced as a niggling thought occurred, "how much did all this cost?"

Faith shot him a suspicious look. "You sayin' I'm not worth it?"

Xander gulped. "No ma'am."

Faith nodded smugly. "Right answer."

* * *

Lamont Cranston whoever he was, at least sent them a sleek, tinted-window limo, complete with peak-capped driver to pick them up. The car roared through the city, the metropolis' twinkling lights illuminating the night, and dropped them at an exclusive suburb, at the stepped entrance of a vast white-washed mansion. "'Kay," Faith took a long breath as the door swung open, the black driver with his eyes carefully cast down, "let's see who Cranston is."

"Yeah," Xander was lookin' pretty fly in his tuxedo, not Bond or anything, but a head-turner nonetheless.

In a matter of moments they'd been led through into a vast open lounge filled with people in the latest fashions, all politely talking as big band music played on the background. Faith's lips twisted as she noticed that while all the guests were uniformly white, the drink & food servers were all black. "Ahhh," a tall, lean-faced man with slicked back dark hair and even darker, intense eyes strode up to them, "the two heroes from the bank I believe, I was there making a deposit of my own. Your actions were most daring." Cranston's gaze turned to her as he took her hand and kissed it. "And your beauty is breath-taking."

Cranston's piercing gaze impaled Xander. "The pair of you were certainly most effective in taking down those two bank robbers. I'd imagine you had some sort of army training, but for the eye, and what army takes women, even one as fetching as your companion."

"His companion," Faith broke in, she'd always taken it real bad when people talked about her like she wasn't there, "went to some kick-ass self-defence classes growin' up."

"Yes of course," Cranston's painted-on grin slipped an inch but quickly settled back in place. "Well mingle, introduce yourselves."

"Yeah," Faith had seen a tall bronze-haired dude with piercing gold eyes and a square jaw chipped from rock as well as the shoulders of a linebacker and a waist like a ballerina that she'd love to introduce herself to.

Over and over again.

Xander on the other hand was looking real close at a middle-aged man with wild white hair and a thick moustache. The man was wildly gesturing, his eyes intense, and his voice thick with an accent and emotion. "Hitler, you have no idea how evil he is," the man said. "People taken from their homes, their belongings taken from them, all for the crime of their race!"

Faith opened her mouth to ask Xander if he'd recognised the man, and then all of a sudden her friend was moving, gliding through the room, in and out of the congregated party-goers like a wide receiver going for a touchdown.

* * *

Xander couldn't believe it. He was stood in the same room as arguably the greatest scientist and inventor of the 20th century – Albert Einstein. Xander's heart skipped a beat as he spied a tall, slab-shouldered man with a greying goatee and sharp black eyes striding towards the world-famous scientist.

Before he knew it he was moving, motoring through the party. He reached out and grabbed the man's shoulder, spinning him towards him while powering up through calves and driving the top of his head into the man's mouth. Blood burst from the man's mouth as he stumbled backwards, but to his credit he still managed to throw a hook that Xander parried on his forearm while driving an uppercut into the man's jaw.

The man took a step back, a dagger leaping into his hand, as he slashed at Xander's face. But Xander stepped around and outside the man's attack, grabbing his adversary's arm at the wrist and elbow, and rammed the elbow inwards while yanking his wrist out. "Ahhhh!" the man screamed as his elbow snapped, face greying as his knife fell from his grasp and he dropped to his knees, Xander's own knee driving up and into the man's face.

"Give the gentleman some room," a booming voice commanded. Xander looked up to see a towering bronze-haired muscleman with intelligent gold eyes and a square jaw pushing through the surrounding crowd. "You have a good eye, sir. How did you see the man's knife?"

Xander grimaced. "I didn't, I recognised his signet ring as belonging to an order of assassins."

"Oh good gracious," Einstein looked about to faint.

"Xan! What in the hell is goin' on?"

Xander winced at Faith's brusque demand. He knew his friend was only concerned for his well-being, but this wasn't the time where women pushed their way to the front of any violent scene. "Of course," the wide-shouldered man crouched down beside the felled would-be killer, "I recognise the ring as belonging to the Order Of Taraka. I've heard of them, they're an ancient and notorious order of assassins. I'll take this gentleman and rehabilitate him via surgical methods."

"Yeah," Xander stared down at the unconscious assassin, nose wrinkling. The dude looked human, but there were many a species of demon who could pass as human. But on the other hand, explaining that would-. Xander looked up, distracted by another thought. "Who are you anyway?"

"Ah," the man flashed him a gleaming smile, "Clark Savage Jr., pleased to make your acquaintance." The man took his hand and pumped it, his grip strong but without the crushing strength of someone either unaware of their power or trying to prove it. "And you are?"

Xander forced back a gulp as he peered up into the golden eyes of a legend. "Huh, Xander Harris."

"And your beautiful companion?" Savage smiled.

"Faith Lehane," Faith introduced herself.

"Well," Xander just about managed to stop himself from gaping when Savage stood, the assassin draped over his shoulder, "a pleasure to meet you for sure. Here," he passed Xander a business card, "I'd love to see you again. Perhaps nine in the morning?"

Xander managed a slow nod. "Sure." Perhaps it wasn't the smartest move, meeting Doc Savage in his own base, but it was also an undeniable lure. Besides, if anyone could help them, it'd be him.

* * *

"Eighty-six floors high?" Faith resisted the urge to shudder as they stepped out of the high-speed elevator and onto Savage's private floor. Not she was afraid of heights exactly, but the only way she figured on getting that high was in a damn plane.

"I know exciting."

Faith looked towards her companion and shook her head. Harris had been kick-ass last night, not that she was surprised especially, cause she didn't partner herself with pussies. What did surprise her was him acceptin' the invitation to come here which seemed to her the very definition of drawin' attention to themselves when they should be operatin' on the downlow. What was also weird was Xander insistin' on them bringin' all their future stuff with them.

Faith whistled as she and her friend stepped up to the doorway opposite the elevator and the door opened to reveal a smiling, not to mention towering, Doc Savage. "Ah, please come in," Savage stepped aside, "I was only at last night's party on a tip there was an assassin there, aimed at my good friend, Albert Einstein, meeting you two was definitely an added bonus!"

"Yeah," Faith stared uneasily at the bronze-skinned giant. She didn't do well with giddy, never had. She glanced around his palatial lounge, the beautifully furnished place seemed to be part living area, part workshop, part lab, and part gym, and in the area living area there sat five men.

"Ah," Savage's smile widened. "You've noted my redoubtable companions." Savage strode over to a red-haired man with long arms. "This is Andrew 'Monk' Mayfair, an industrial chemist." He looked towards a dapperly-dressed man carrying a cane. "Theodore Marley 'Ham' Brooks, attorney at law." Savage looked towards a sad-looking giant of a man. "John 'Renny' Renwick,a construction engineer." Next was a feeble looking fellow. "Thomas 'Long John' Robert, an electrical engineer." Finally there was a man wearing eyeglasses with a magnifying lens over his left eye. "William Harper 'Johnny' Littlejohn, an archaeologist and geologist."

"Pleased to meet you all," Xander smiled at the quintet then glanced at Savage. "As honoured as I am to be here, I'm also a little confused as to why we were invited."

"You're a pair of oddities," Savage raised a hand and smiled. "Please, don't be offended. I merely meant Mr. Harris as the look of a man who has spent several years in exotic climes, he recognised an assassin merely by the ring on his finger, and used a combination of no less than four different martial arts, of each I am a master, to take him down." Savage smiled

"Ain't nothing strange from where I'm sittin'," Ham drawled, "just pleasin'."

"Oh I'd say more, I'd say she's perfect in every way," Monk put in.

"Really?" Faith glanced towards the lawyer and the chemist. "You've got Shoulders over there and my bud rockin' the eye-patch like a bad-ass, and you're gonna try pickin' me up? Admire your nerve if not your sense."

"As I said, very strange," Savage replied.

Xander reached into his rucksack and threw Savage their credit and ATM cards. "What do you make of them?"

"Fascinating," Savage peered at the cards then looked up them, his high forehead burrowed, "I assume from the names on them these are somehow supposed to get you money?"

"Speaking of which," Xander passed Savage a twenty dollar bill.

"An interesting fake," Savage commented, "elaborately made but the date alone makes it useless."

"Try this then."

Savage's eyes widened at their iphones and Faith's ipod, as well as a graphic novel Xander had bought on the way to the crime scene, and the Kevlar vest he wore while patrolling. "How is this technology possible?"

Xander smiled. "I think a logical man such as yourself can work that out for himself."

"Time travel is impossible!" Savage exclaimed.

"And yet, here we are," Xander replied.

"Then," Savage leaned forward, "please tell me where you're from and how you got here."

"2010," Xander paused and winced before continuing, "we got here when a god got annoyed with us and sent us here."

"There is only one true god."

Faith groaned. "Seriously? And I was startin' to get a hankerin' for you, muscles."

"I'd be willing to give up or get religion for you sweetheart, whatever you wanted," Ham practically panted.

"Yes," Xander rubbed his forehead. "I knew this was going to be a hard sell. Faith's a Vampire Slayer-."

"Yes," Savage nodded sagely. "I'm aware of the myth-."

Faith picked a steel bar up off a near-by table and bent it in two. Then she threw it down, picked up a thick, red leather-backed encyclopaedia off the book shelves and tore it in two, then turned to a jaw-agape Ham. "Imagine what I could do to you?"

"Oh he's imagining'," Monk chuckled.

Savage blinked. "Surely there has to be a scientific explanation, perhaps an enhanced diet in the futu-."

"Doc," Xander interrupted, "please, we could take you vampire hunting, find a demon, but if you're not going to be convinced, you're not going to be convinced. But do you accept we're from the future?"

Savage let out a long breath. "Given the amount of evidence you've presented in the form of your gadgets I'm willing to admit that you're either from the future or you somehow have technology that came from the future."

"Then I was hoping you'd help me," Xander looked towards Faith, "that is us get back to our time."

"I'm sorry," Savage gestured towards the gadgets stacked up around the room, "I'm considered advanced for this time, but nothing I've ever developed comes close to solving the mysteries of time."

"I was thinking more of mystical means," Xander held up his hand. "Humour me please. I'm looking for someone called the Sorcerer Supreme."

Savage stared at them for a long moment before nodding brusquely. "Let me check my database of contacts," Doc rose and opened a huge steel filing cabinet. "O for 'Occultists'." Faith exchanged a bemused look with Harris as the superhero began to trill loudly, his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed in concentration. Finally, he spun around. "I have three potential leads for you – a Professor Jones in Chicago, Lovecraft in Providence, and a Professor O'Connell in England."

"Thanks, what did you do with the assassin?" Xander queried as he took the information and began writing it out.

"I operated on him to remove his criminalistic tendencies," Savage replied. "The poor fellow was most remorseful, and informed me of his Order's intention to kill another two people tonight."

"Okay," Xander's brow furrowed as her friend hesitated. "There's something you should know, the Order Of Taraka aren't just old, they're demonic."

Savage's eyes widened. "The assassin you disarmed the other night was human."

"Yeah," Xander nodded. "Sometimes they employ humans, but demons and black arts mages too."

Savage pursed his lips. "That complicates matter. Perhaps I could endeavour on the pair of you to assist?"

"How so?" Xander queried.

"One of you could go with me to deal with one of the planned assassins, while the other could accompany the rest of my team to deal with the other," Savage replied.

"Who are the targets?" Faith put in.

"A Dr. Abraham Erskine, another of those gallant Jews fleeing Hitler's savagery, an expert bio-chemist, and a Dr. Phineas Horton, a robotics expert," Savage replied.

"I'm goin' with Savage." Faith shook her head when Xander looked towards her. "Hey, no way am I goin' with those two chauvinistic asses."


	4. Chapter 4

**FIC: Pulp Faith (4/?)**

Savage strode down the busy sidewalk, alongside his strangely-attired companion, conscious of the many stares the brunette's strange style of dress gained her. Although of course beautiful women always got plenty of looks.

Suddenly the lady in question stopped at an alley entrance, her eyes narrowing and forehead creasing. "Give me a moment." Before he had chance to speak, she'd spun away and started down the alleyway and towards a brawling pair in the shadows of the alley's far end, one youth far larger than the other one he was beating on.

"Taking the side of a spade shoe-shine boy?" snarled the bigger youth as his fist thudded home, bloodying the smaller boy's nose. "You're a traitor to your own kind!"

"Racist." The Slayer's foot thudded into the bully's hamstring, knocking him to one knee. "Bully." Her elbow snapped down, crashing down and into the top of his head, stunning him. "Coward." The Slayer grabbed the back of the thug's collar and drove him face first into the wall. "You really are 0 for 3." The youth bounced off the wall and crashed to the ground, his face bloody and body barely twitching.

The teen blond lying crumpled on the refuse-strewn alley had blood leaking from his mouth and nose. He was a scrawny fellow, perhaps four or five inches over five feet and with considerably less muscle on his frame than the average French Fry. And yet Savage noted something in the boy's sky blue eyes that suggested greater than normal depths. "Hey," the Slayer grabbed the downed man's forearm and pulled him to his feet, "you might wanna consider pickin' fights with guys who aren't three times your size. What the hell was it about anyhow?"

The teen used his free arm to wipe the blood from his leaking mouth before replying, eyes glassy and yet his gaze strangely steady. "He was hassling old Amos on account of his colour. Amos has never done anybody any harm." The teen forced a smile. "I'm Steve by the way, Steve Rogers."

It seemed to Savage that his companion rocked back on her feet at the blond's utterance of his name. "Well Steve," the Slayer smiled, "you keep fightin' for truth, justice, and the American way, you hear?"

"Ms. Lehane?" Savage prompted. "We had an appointment?"

"Yeah," Faith nodded at the younger man then spun around and strode out of the alley.

"It seemed as if you recognised the young man's name?" Savage queried as he raced after his companion.

Faith shot him a sultrily mysterious smirk. "Let's just say 'Steve Rogers' is a very, very big deal to people from my time."

"Ah," Savage allowed the matter to drop, reaching into his jacket to check his pocket watch, "if we hurry, we should make the start of Professor Erskine's lecture."

"Oh happy joy."

* * *

"If I might ask-."

"You might not," Xander muttered, like that would stop his companions' incessant questions.

"Are you and the delightful Ms. Lehane involved?" Monk finished.

Delightful? They really didn't know Faith. "Nah," Xander shook his head, "been there, sort of done that. Strictly business."

"Excellent," Ham fair leered, "then there is an opportunity."

Xander glanced at his pair of companions, fought back a chuckle then nodded. "Sure, knock yourselves out." If they didn't, Faith probably would. "Where did the others go?"

"Ah, Doc has them investigating some leads into just who is behind the hiring of this Order," Monk replied.

"Huh," Xander glanced at the other man, his brow furrowing slightly. He didn't especially like the idea of 'novices' going up against potentially demonic opponents without experienced back-up, unfortunately he had his own problems to deal with.

Returning to the matter in hand, he looked towards the single-storey brownstoned building across the road from where they were lurking. "Tell me about this Dr. Phineas Horton?"

"According to what 'Doc' tells us he's an expert in robotics and artificial intelligence, whatever they are exactly," Ham replied. "That's his lab, he spends his days in there, practically from dawn to dusk."

"Huh," Xander nodded. "And there's only one way in?"

"There's no door or even windows around the rear," Monk replied. "I checked earlier."

"Huh, huh." Xander's solitary eye narrowed as a horse-drawn delivery wagon pulled up outside the lab. His brow furrowed. "If he's a robotics engineer why would he need lab rats?"

Stepping out of the alley, Xander hurried across the road, marvelling again at the relative lack of traffic. "Hey buddy," Xander tried and failed for a Brooklyn accent, probably channelling one too many De Niro performances, as he hailed the deliveryman, "you got a moment?" His voice trailed off as his eye caught the gleam of a tell-tale signet ring.

A curved dagger appeared in the would-be assassin's hand as if by magic. "Oh boy." Xander gulped as the man slashed at his feet, leaping back to evade the knife even as another dagger appeared in his assailant's other hand. The weapons slashed through the air between the pair of them as Xander retreated, swaying in and out of the flashing blades.

And then Monk tackled the killer at the knees and Ham took him at the shoulders, the assassin's lower body going left and his torso going right as he crumbled to the ground, his body twisted like a particularly painful pretzel. "I say," Ham looked up at Xander as he kicked the assassin in the face, knocking him out, "do you think Ms. Lehane will be impressed by this?"

"Geez," Xander shook his head as he helped the pair up, "you two need to get a hobby or maybe try masturbation. That got through me through a couple of difficult years."

* * *

She'd listened to Giles lecture about a whole variety of matters and she never thought she could ever be more bored.

Boy was she ever wrong.

They were stood off to the left of the stage upon which the weedy Jewish scientist had droned on and on about manipulating biology and chemistry to create somethin' called an ubermensch to an audience filled with about thirty – forty boffin-looking dudes inter-mingled with maybe a dozen harder-looking guys that had the feel of military. Savage on the other hand was in rapture, nodding and muttering unintelligible commentary and occasionally makin' that odd trilling sound of his.

Finally the lecture ended to a smattering of applause, a few questions coming from the scientists amongst the audience, the soldiers looking interested but sceptical.

Faith's eyes narrowed, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling ominously. "Say," she forced a casual note in her voice, "it's still daylight, right?" Her towering companion nodded. "Crap." Her brow furrowed in momentary thought. "Hey, is there sewage entrance into this place?"

"Yes," Savage nodded. "Around the back of the stage."

"Follow me." Without waiting to see if her companion obeyed, Faith strode off, darting behind the stage wall and into the only partially-illuminated corridor behind. Her heart thundering, she stalked down the shadow-shrouded passageway, her eyes searching the darkness for her adversary.

"SHIT!" Faith leaned back as a snarling Oriental vampire lunged out of the shadows to her right, taloned hand only just missing slashing her face. Savage lunged past her and at the vampire but caught a kick to the gut that folded him in two and sent him staggering back, face greying beneath his tan.

For her part, Faith leapt into the attack, slipping outside an attempted right cross to the jaw and closing fast with her opponent, driving a hard knee into the vamp's midsection. The demon grunted but twisted to meet her, forcing her to block its wild swings on her forearms, then step in close, and drive her head hard into the demon's face. The vampire grunted but still led with its fangs trying and failing to grasp her neck between its lips.

Faith writhed away from the attack, sidestepped the demon and drove her elbow down into its hip. The vampire grunted, twisted away from her and side-kicked a rising Savage in the chest, knocking him onto his ass. Faith used the distraction to leap back in to the attack, twisting at the waist as she drove a body shot into the vampire's stomach while simultaneously swinging up with an uppercut that caught the demon on the point of its jaw.

The vampire let out a pained screech and reared back. Faith drew her dagger and ducked under its claws, coming up inside its defences to grin cockily as she slashed her knife across the beast's throat, and turn to Savage as it exploded into dust. "Try explaining that scientifically."

Savage stared open-mouthed at her. "Quite."

"Is the lecture over?" Faith queried. Savage nodded. "Then we're finished here?"

"It would appear so," Savage agreed.

"Praise be."

* * *

"Today's operation went well. However we have another problem." Savage placed his hands on his hips, a grim expression on the bronze-haired muscleman's face. "I have rehabilitated the Nazi agent who hired the assassins, and he reported a plan to kill FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover."


	5. Chapter 5

**FIC: Pulp Faith (5/?)**

Washington DC.

Faith shook her head as she peered out of the train's window and peered upon a Washington that had little resemblance to the city she'd twice visited before on demon hunts. It was the same, but different, landmarks missing, that sorta thing. "I'll endeavour to find us some transport," Savage sprang up with the sort of effortless power that was indicative of the man and raced out of the carriage.

"Jesus Xan," Faith glanced towards her companion, the words she'd been bursting to say since they'd left New York bursting outta her like water breaching a dam, "why are we here? We should be searchin' for this Sorcerer Supreme!"

Xander shook his head. "This is a chance to work with Doc Savage! We've gotta take the opportunity. Besides if we're stuck here for any length of time, we might need influential friends."

"Yeah," Faith wrinkled her nose, "and just how did Doc get this information?"

"Huh," Xander grimaced slightly, "if I remember rightly, he used brain surgery to rehabilitate people."

"Jesus," Faith shook her head, stomach twisting slightly. "And you wanna us to work with this nutjob?" Faith barrelled on over Xander's opening mouth. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but I remember a little from my American History GED, and wasn't Hoover a cross-dressing whack-job?"

"Maybe so," Xander nodded, "but while a lot of the stuff he did was questionable, he was also integral in building up our pre-war intelligence network against the Nazis."

"But we don't even need to be here, like I said, I know my history, and Hoover didn't die until way after the war," Faith protested.

"Maybe that's because we were always here to stop him being killed?" Xander shrugged. "I think a general rule for dealing with this stuff is we don't try and do anything significant that didn't happen in history, because either we're doomed to fail or if we succeed we risk horribly changing history. Like for example if we kill Hitler, great, but then maybe he'll be replaced by someone more competent who costs the allies more lives, or someone even more sadistic, who kills more Jews. If on the other hand, we get an opportunity to help keep history exactly as it was, then we should take it, because maybe if we don't, things would change, because we've always been there in the past to help history."

Faith's mouth opened and shut as she took in Xander's commentary on time-travel before finally shaking her head. "My head hurts, and for the record, I fuckin' hate time travel."

Xander smiled wearily. "Not the only one."

"I have a car ordered," Savage suddenly appeared in their carriage's doorway, eagerness shining in his eyes. Dude was like a nicely-muscled boy scout. "The game's afoot!"

Faith blinked. Oh boy, the sooner this was over with the better.

* * *

"So how do you plan on playin' this Doc?"

Doc Savage blinked at the Slayer's husky rasp as they settled into the car's rear. Over these last few days his world-view had taken quite a battering. He'd always been staunchly rational, sure that anything could be explained through science, but to be confronted with unshakeable evidence of the existence of the supernatural, and in the undeniably alluring package of a woman who made all other women he'd ever met seem like retiring wallflowers by comparison, even his own cousin Pat, was staggering to say the least.

However, he endeavoured to keep his calm as best as possible, and one of the ways he did that was by concentrating on the mission on hand. "I think we should form a triangle around the director and keep in touch with these," he preened slightly as he passed each of his companions a small black box shaped like a cordless phone, "it's an invention of mine called a P-Com, Personal Communications Device."

"Oh yeah?" he was nonplussed when the Slayer exchanged a knowing look with her one-eyed companion. Clearly these devices were far from unusual in whatever wondrous time they came from. "And we gonna tell Hoover about this attempt on his life?"

"Even for a man of my reputation, convincing people of demonic assassins and the like would be difficult, I feel it better we simply unobtrusively trail the good man until there's an attempt made, then after we succeed, explain our actions then."

Xander grunted. "For very different reasons we all stand out, one way or another. Discreet tails might not do the job for any length of time."

"According to the agent I questioned, the hit is planned for today, we need only protect the Director for a day," Savage replied. "He is apparently on a tour of FBI offices today. I suggest we follow him from office to office, and while he's in each office form the afore-mentioned triangle around the office to ensure no-one attempts an illicit entry."

"And what if the attacker's already in the building?" Faith queried.

Savage grimaced. "They are very secure buildings, if I'd had more time I would have been able to fashion identities allowing us access, unfortunately God was not with us, and I didn't have enough time. We'll have to trust to building security, and guard Hoover to and from buildings, and at his own home."

"Great," Faith shook her head, "amateur hour."

* * *

The next few hours passed in a boring crawl, following Hoover from anonymous, grey-stoned building to anonymous, grey-stoned building. Faith found herself gettin' real bored, not to mention hungry as hell, as a Slayer metabolism was not meant to go hours without eating.

She was busy salivating 'bout an imaginary juicy, barely-cooked steak being served to her by a topless Chippendale when she heard it. Eyes narrowing, she stalked around the back of the car, confident that the barely-awake driver wouldn't notice her stealthy passage. She dropped into a crouch by the town car's rear wheel, eyes fixed on the creature crawling out of the sewers.

It was a tall, wide-shouldered creature with long, ropy arms that ended in hands with three talons, the eyes in its rat-like face shone violet in the half-light while salvia dribbled from its jagged teeth. The moment the monster saw her, it let out a hiss and shot out of the sewer hole like a cork out of a bottle, and flew at her.

"Crap!" Faith let out a shocked wail and fell onto her side as she kicked out at the lunging creature.

The monster grunted as the tip of her sneaker thudded into the monster's barrel chest, knocking it back a step. "Guys!" Faith let out a yell as she grabbed the car's bumper and pulled herself up, dark eyes fixed on the monster.

The monster leapt at her again. Faith readied herself, dropping into a wrestler's crouch.

And then Savage bundled out of the greying darkness, football tackling the beast around the left side of the torso.

The creature's elbow swung back and crashed into the hero's forehead, knocking him to the ground, blood gusting from Savage's forehead. Faith smirked as she leapt into the air, catching the distracted beast in its thick chest with a double-footed dropkick.

The monster hit the ground with a thud, Faith landing in a crouch beside it, her arms wrapping around the monster's elephantine neck, her arms' lithe muscles contracted python-like around the beast's neck, and then she twisted hard to the left. The creature convulsed as its neck cracked and snapped like stamped on twigs, then shuddered as it went limp in her arms.

"I say!" Faith glanced up towards the building to see a puffed-up, self-important looking man striding towards them with eyes bulging. "What is going on here? And what is that evil-looking creature?"

"A demon," Faith flatly replied as she rose, deciding she was even less impressed with the fabled FBI Director up-close and in person.

"A what?"

"Dr. Savage," her glassy-eyed companion rose and bowed at the FBI Director, "we've met several times before."

"Dr. Savage of course." The FBI Director nodded distractedly at the pulp hero before returning to examine the downed monster. "There's no such thing as demons!"

"I understand these things can be hard to believe, but you have my word as a fellow man of Christ," Faith rolled her eyes, shit Savage was a nice enough guy, but he did go on, "that things such as demons do exist, and this one was sent by the Nazis to kill you!"

"Amazing," Hoover looked like a feather could floor him.

"And word to the wise," Faith drawled, "maybe the government should be doin' more to protect people from demons and the like."

"The like?" For the first time Hoover looked towards her. "What else is there, young lady?"

"Vampires, werewolves, dark arts mages, demons, poltergeists," Faith replied. "Other stuff too, basically anythin' you find in a book 'bout myths, at least 80% of that shit is real."

"Quite." Hoover looked like he was about to faint. Although whether that was due to the revelations about the existence of the supernatural or her raucous language was anybody's guess.

* * *

Xander grunted at the knock on the door, his eyes reluctantly opening. It seemed like only minutes since they'd returned to their hotel. "Give me a second," he grunted, voice thick with sleep. Throwing aside his sheets, he rose and stumbled to the door, still rubbing the sleep outta of his eyes as he flung the door open to find the bell-hop stood there.

"Hello sir," the bell-hop managed a weak smile, "the front desk got a message through, said it was urgent and you were to be woken immediately, no matter what."

"Why didn't you wake my friend with this?"

The bell-hop paled under his dark skin. "Oh no sir," he shook his head so violently Xander half-thought it might fly off his neck, "she's a mighty frightening woman!"

Yeah, that tracked, Xander's scowl deepened, the one-eyed man was far less terrifying than the beautiful half his size woman. Was he feeling emasculated yet? Xander sighed as he returned his attention to the note, jaw dropping as the note's contents sank in. "Thanks," he passed the bell-hop a dollar before pushing past him and heading for Faith's room.

* * *

"Jesus FUCKING H. CHRIST! Whoever that is better have a damn good reason!"

Xander winced at Faith's bellow following his knock on her door. Clearly the bell-hop had been the smart one, coming to him rather than her. "It's me."

"Shit," five seconds later and the door swung open, Faith still pulling her silken dressing gown around her. "What's the problem?"

"Yeah." Xander forced himself to focus not on Faith's long, smooth legs beneath the robe's hem but on the note he'd just received. "Just got a letter from Doc Savage, H.P. Lovecraft's been found murdered." Faith stared blankly at him. "Lovecraft's one of the occultists that Savage recommended. He was a famous writer of this time, but it was rumoured he had other darker interests."

"Shit. There might be somethin' in his papers," Faith decided. "We still gotta go."

* * *

A Pentagon Bunker, Several Days Later

Omar Bradley's eyes widened as he hurried into the fluorescent illuminated room with maps from throughout the world fastened to its walls to find a considerable number of his colleagues seated around it. "Dwight, George, Douglas, good to see you again," he greeted his fellow generals then glanced at the two men clad in naval uniforms, his brow furrowing. "Sorry gentlemen, we haven't been introduced?"

"Admiral Chester William Nimitz," said the first of the two.

"Vice-Admiral William S. Pye," the second said.

"Well this is quite the collection," General Bradley looked over his shoulder to see a man dressed in the uniform of the air force coming down the stairs behind him, "General Henry Arnold, Air Force. I see all three services represented here, but no reason why. What have those Nazis done now?"

A hitherto unnoticed door to the room's rear opened and a very familiar figure strode in, face shining with self-importance. "It's not the Nazis that bring us here," Director Hoover huffed. "But an even bigger threat. Gentlemen, I need cross-service support, assistance from the army, navy, and law enforcement agencies to help me in establishing a new government department."

"And what will this agency be called?" Patton demanded.

"And what will its remit be?" queried Bradley.

Hoover hesitated then nodded. "I've come into certain facts recently, facts that will shake your world-view. This organisation will be called the D.R.I." Hoover hesitated again then continued. "The Demonic Research Initiative."


End file.
